Christmas kindness past and present

Published: Sunday, December 23, 2007 at 6:30 a.m.

Last Modified: Sunday, December 23, 2007 at 6:15 a.m.

If your world crashed down around you, you imagine it would sound like thunder or a calamitous shrieking and clanging.
For me, however, it was the dull thud, thud, thud of feet hurrying along the hallway outside the small bedroom I shared with my brother, Brendan.
I peered out into the brightly lit hall in time to see my mother frantically racing back to her bedroom from my older sister's room. "Stay in your room," she admonished as she disappeared through her doorway.
I could hear my 15-year-old sister, Lisa, on the telephone in the kitchen, then she was standing in the doorway of my parents' bedroom watching my mother perform CPR. I couldn't see into the room, but I could hear the blowing noises and my mother calling, "Tom. Tom."
Moments later, Lisa delivered the awful news to us: "Daddy's dead."
A month before Thanksgiving. Two months before Christmas. 1977.
In the weeks that followed, we experienced most of the emotions that follow the loss of a loved one - anger, sadness and so on. The one I don't recall feeling was denial, because even as an 11-year-old boy I knew it was very real, and I knew we were in big trouble.
After all, my father had been the sole breadwinner. Mom, a quiet woman who hadn't been in the workforce in almost two decades, now bore the full weight of raising four kids.
Christmas was lean that year. One gift apiece. I don't even recall what I received. I think it was a pair of jeans because there was no room for extravagant presents on my family's suddenly meager income.
On Christmas Eve, mom gave my little sister a small baby doll in a "crib" she had made out of a laundry basket and some inexpensive cloth. Then, my mother disappeared into her room and cried herself to sleep.
The next few Christmases were not as tight, although I couldn't understand why at the time. Money was still scarce the rest of the year.
Years later, I learned that relatives, especially my uncle John Gott, had learned about that first tearful Christmas without my dad and had been moved to send money around the holidays every year after.
And like that first Christmas without dad, I don't remember what gifts my mother bought us with Uncle John's money. I just remember that Christmas was a family time, free of tears and anxiety and full of laughter, tradition and church services.
The generosity of others had freed my family from the terrible feelings of want and need that always seem to be experienced most acutely during the holidays.
I see that same generosity today, 30 years after my father's passing.
I see it in the goods and services donated to local social service agencies by area business people. I see it in the time donated by those who prepare meals at the Brothers Keeper soup kitchen. I see it in the holiday meals, toys and Christmas trees you've donated to families you don't even know.
And I see it in the money - sometimes large amounts and sometimes very small amounts, but always given in love - you've donated so that agencies like Interfaith Emergency Services, Brothers Keeper, Soul Harvest Ministries and Community with a Heart can help struggling families get through life's rough patches.
On behalf of needy families throughout Marion County, thank you.Managing Editor Tom McNiff may be reached at 352-867-4013 or tom.mcniff@starbanner.com.

If your world crashed down around you, you imagine it would sound like thunder or a calamitous shrieking and clanging.<BR>
For me, however, it was the dull thud, thud, thud of feet hurrying along the hallway outside the small bedroom I shared with my brother, Brendan.<BR>
I peered out into the brightly lit hall in time to see my mother frantically racing back to her bedroom from my older sister's room. "Stay in your room," she admonished as she disappeared through her doorway.<BR>
I could hear my 15-year-old sister, Lisa, on the telephone in the kitchen, then she was standing in the doorway of my parents' bedroom watching my mother perform CPR. I couldn't see into the room, but I could hear the blowing noises and my mother calling, "Tom. Tom."<BR>
Moments later, Lisa delivered the awful news to us: "Daddy's dead."<BR>
A month before Thanksgiving. Two months before Christmas. 1977.<BR>
In the weeks that followed, we experienced most of the emotions that follow the loss of a loved one - anger, sadness and so on. The one I don't recall feeling was denial, because even as an 11-year-old boy I knew it was very real, and I knew we were in big trouble.<BR>
After all, my father had been the sole breadwinner. Mom, a quiet woman who hadn't been in the workforce in almost two decades, now bore the full weight of raising four kids.<BR>
Christmas was lean that year. One gift apiece. I don't even recall what I received. I think it was a pair of jeans because there was no room for extravagant presents on my family's suddenly meager income.<BR>
On Christmas Eve, mom gave my little sister a small baby doll in a "crib" she had made out of a laundry basket and some inexpensive cloth. Then, my mother disappeared into her room and cried herself to sleep.<BR>
The next few Christmases were not as tight, although I couldn't understand why at the time. Money was still scarce the rest of the year.<BR>
Years later, I learned that relatives, especially my uncle John Gott, had learned about that first tearful Christmas without my dad and had been moved to send money around the holidays every year after.<BR>
And like that first Christmas without dad, I don't remember what gifts my mother bought us with Uncle John's money. I just remember that Christmas was a family time, free of tears and anxiety and full of laughter, tradition and church services.<BR>
The generosity of others had freed my family from the terrible feelings of want and need that always seem to be experienced most acutely during the holidays.<BR>
I see that same generosity today, 30 years after my father's passing.<BR>
I see it in the goods and services donated to local social service agencies by area business people. I see it in the time donated by those who prepare meals at the Brothers Keeper soup kitchen. I see it in the holiday meals, toys and Christmas trees you've donated to families you don't even know.<BR>
And I see it in the money - sometimes large amounts and sometimes very small amounts, but always given in love - you've donated so that agencies like Interfaith Emergency Services, Brothers Keeper, Soul Harvest Ministries and Community with a Heart can help struggling families get through life's rough patches.<BR>
On behalf of needy families throughout Marion County, thank you.<BR>
<i>Managing Editor Tom McNiff may be reached at 352-867-4013 or tom.mcniff@starbanner.com.</i>